Tender is the Flesh
by lovemetendersweet
Summary: Cloud Strife had been suspended in a perpetual state of agonizing panic and torment, as blood tricked down from the open wound in his chest. A materialistic tear of little consequence near his already broken and crushed heart.


I wrote this a while ago. Life is hectic, high school is wrapping up, and I just home from a one month trip to the Homeland (ie, Bangladesh). Heh, I had this, so I thought I'd share. Enjoy.

-FadedJustice

The blonde was breathing harshly, beginning to fall into a stupor,  
his frail body shaking uncontrollably. Cloud Strife had been  
suspended in a perpetual state of agonizing panic and torment, as  
blood tricked down from the open wound in his chest, a materialistic  
tear of little consequence near his already broken and crushed heart.  
"Strife." Sephiroth lifted Cloud's face to meet his gaze. He raised a  
thin silver brow in amusement at the desperate, heartbroken, and  
absolutely wretched glare Cloud delivered him in his state of agony.  
Vivid jade irises clashed against the now vehement cerulean ones, of  
course, Sephiroth could have sworn that they the cerulean orbs exuded  
just the slightest hue of cobalt.  
Sephiroth traced his thumb across the blonde's cheek, noticing Cloud  
flinch, shudder, and then attempt to shake out of his grasp. His grip  
tightened; amused at the fact that such a small touch could catalyze a  
strong myriad of emotions within the quivering blonde. But of course,  
he had always known that, hadn't he? He had noticed the tinge of  
betrayal splashed across the blonde's eyes as he screamed his fallen  
comrade's names, cradling her during her last few breaths.  
He had even noticed how Strife would tense, lower his gaze to the  
floor, and meekly shift to the back, dark, recesses of the room in  
whenever Sephiroth's presence during the old Shinra days, trying to go  
unnoticed. Completely oblivious to the fact that he had always been  
held underneath the General's acute gaze.  
He scoffed, as soft tendrils of silver hair slid down over his face.  
Cloud had begun to shudder again, his shoulders tensed, and once again  
looked up to meet Sephiroth's gaze.  
The general was slightly taken aback, with jade eyes slightly  
widening with shock, to witness the slight hint of trembling in the  
blonde's eyes, and just the slightest hint of tears being suspended.  
"Sephiroth…you bastard." Cloud sputtered. Shaking uncontrollably, the  
tears now freely trailing down the blonde's bloodstained and dirtied  
cheeks.  
"How could you, you bastard, you heartless bastard?" Cloud had been  
sobbing now. Sephiroth watched lazily as tear slowly ran down the  
blood-smeared skin, and trickled along the delicate creases of his  
glove, surprised at his somber reaction to his puppet's expression of  
grief.  
"Why, Cadet, bold aren't we?"  
However, it was inconsequential, Strife was inconsequential, he was  
expendable, a worthless puppet to do his bidding.  
But if that was so, then why did Sephiroth feel a slight pang of  
guilt, remorse, or something akin to it pull at his heart.  
The general scolded himself, the heart was only a beating bloody  
organ, and its only purpose was of a surely bodily function, to pump  
blood, not to direct the matters and deeds of the conscience or  
romance, or anything as trivial as love.  
"How could you do this? Why? God, Sephiroth why?" He shut his eyes  
and felt the beginnings of a headache brooding in his mind as the  
resonance of the blonde's voice grated against his sanity.  
The general kneeled beside the fallen cadet. It had been so long  
since Sephiroth had been this close with Cloud, so long ago, and it  
seems that when both of them would be together in such close  
unbridling proximity, it would end rather disastrously.  
Ironic wasn't it? He thought bitterly, that whenever he would try to  
rekindle whatever small friendship they had once shared, he would only  
drive them further apart.  
He opened his eyes to find the blonde looking down, and grasped the  
blonde's face between his hands, smearing more blood against his pale  
cheeks.  
"Strife." He said, voice growing softer as he pulled the blonde's  
face closer to him. The dismal realization that things between them  
would end more awkwardly than how they had originally started had  
begun to creep in. One of them would not survive, and although his  
pride would have never allowed him to admit it, there was a slight  
inkling that it was he that would fall.  
That thought hadn't been as unsettling as he would have hoped for.  
Although the more weighty tremors had ceased, the blonde was still  
shaking. Always shaking, actually, when in this close proximity to  
him. They had been friends once, hadn't they? Even comrades?  
Granted the blonde had never been truly at ease and unperturbed  
around the General, and Sephiroth himself never relaxed around him,  
but there had been a certain…similar forlorn sense of despondency that  
they had shared.  
They were bound to each other by a ravaging desolation that only  
they, themselves could fully comprehend and understand.  
And for that peace of mind, Sephiroth had been silently; eternally  
grateful for the unselfish, raw vestige of human emotion he had been  
allowed to experience.

Hope you enjoyed! Review. I'd love it if you did. :) Oh, and have a great Valentine's Day everywhere. I just need to figure out what to cook my boyfriend without burning down my house.


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